UC-NRLF 353 A V- : I SALOMYJANE I S^BRET HARTE ill I GIFT OF 4(100 1 Ax,./ SALOMY JANE BY BRET HARTE L W s^J WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HARRISON FISHER AND ARTHUR I. KELLER BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY luiuTsiCit pii-ss Camlm&gr ^ COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY BRET HARTE COPYRIGHT, IQOO, BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Published October iqio CONTENTS I A KlSS AND AN ESCAPE I II THE LADY S REFLECTIONS 19 III THE Kiss REPEATED 35 IV ANOTHER ESCAPE 59 260320 ONLY one shot had been fired. It had gone wide of its mark, the ring leader of the Vigilantes, and had left Red Pete, who had fired it, covered by their rifles and at their mercy. For his hand had been cramped by hard rid ing, and his eye distracted by their sud den onset, and so the inevitable end had come. He submitted sullenly to his captors ; his companion fugitive and horse-thief gave up the protracted struggle with a feeling not unlike re lief. Even the hot and revengeful vict ors were content. They had taken their men alive. At any time during the long h <w (I 1 -%, *&> U Sfci/Sl \^v SALOMY JANE chase they could have brought them down by a rifle-shot, but it would have been unsportsmanlike, and have ended in a free fight, instead of an example. And, for the matter of that, their doom was already sealed. Their end, by a rope and a tree, although not sanctified by law, would have at least the delibera tion of justice. It was the tribute paid by the Vigilantes to that order which they had themselves disregarded in the pursuit and capture. Yet this strange logic of the frontier sufficed them, and gave a certain dignity to the climax. " Ef you J ve got anything to say to your folks, say it now, and say it quick," said the ringleader. Red Pete glanced around him. He SALOMY JANE had been run to earth at his own cabin in the clearing, whence a few relations and friends, mostly women and chil dren, non-combatants, had outflowed, gazing vacantly at the twenty Vigi lantes who surrounded them. All were accustomed to scenes of violence, blood- feud, chase, and hardship; it was only the suddenness of the onset and its quick result that had surprised them. They looked on with dazed curiosity and some disappointment; there had been no fight to speak of no spec tacle! A boy, nephew of Red Pete, got upon the rain-barrel to view the pro ceedings more comfortably; a tall, handsome, lazy Kentucky girl, a visit ing neighbor, leaned against the door- /? ,. -,$? : .1 KTic SALOMY JANE post, chewing gum. Only a yellow hound was actively perplexed. He could not make out if a hunt were just over or beginning, and ran eagerly backwards and forwards, leaping alter nately upon the captives and the cap tors. The ringleader repeated his chal lenge. Red Pete gave a reckless laugh and looked at his wife. At which Mrs. Red Pete came for ward. It seemed that she had much to say, incoherently, furiously, vindic tively, to the ringleader. His soul would roast in hell for that day s work! He called himself a man, skunkin in the open and afraid to show himself except with a crowd of other " Kiyi s " SALOMY JANE around a house of women and children. Heaping insult upon insult, inveighing against his low blood, his ancestors, his dubious origin, she at last flung out a wild taunt of his invalid wife, the insult of a woman to a woman, until his white face grew rigid, and only that Western- American fetich of the sanctity of sex kept his twitching fingers from the lock of his rifle. Even her husband no ticed it, and with a half-authoritative " Let up on that, old gal," and a pat of his freed left hand on her back, took his last parting. The ringleader, still white under the lash of the woman s tongue, turned abruptly to the second captive. " And if you Ve got anybody to say <good-by to, now s your chance." * h& \\\v SALOMY JANE The man looked up. Nobody stirred or spoke. He was a stranger there, being a chance confederate picked up by Red Pete, and known to no one. Still young, but an outlaw from his aban doned boyhood, of which father and mother were only a forgotten dream, he loved horses and stole them, fully accepting the frontier penalty of life for the interference with that animal on which a man s life so often depended. But he understood the good points of a horse, as was shown by the one he be strode until a few days before the property of Judge Boompointer. This was his sole distinction. The unexpected question stirred him for a moment out of the attitude V SALOMY JANE of reckless indifference, for attitude it was, and a part of his profession. But it may have touched him that at that moment he was less than his compan ion and his virago wife. However, he only shook his head. As he did so his eye casually fell on the handsome girl by the doorpost, who was looking at him. The ringleader, too, may have been touched by his complete loneli ness, for he hesitated. At the same moment he saw that the girl was look ing at his friendless captive. A grotesque idea struck him. "Salomy Jane, ye might do worse than come yere and say good-by to a dying man, and him a stranger," he said. & %. *>/ \iv SALOMY JANE There seemed to be a subtle stroke of poetry and irony in this that equally struck the apathetic crowd. It was well known that Salomy Jane Clay thought no small potatoes of herself, and always held off the local swain with a lazy nymph-like scorn. Never theless, she slowly disengaged herself from the doorpost, and, to everybody s astonishment, lounged with languid grace and outstretched hand towards the prisoner. The color came into the gray reckless mask which the doomed man wore as her right hand grasped his left, just loosed by his captors. Then she paused; her shy, fawn-like eyes grew bold, and fixed themselves upon him. She took the chewing-gum mu ^/( AVT"^- SALOMY JANE from her mouth, wiped her red lips with the back of her hand, by a sudden lithe spring placed her foot on his stir rup, and, bounding to the saddle, threw her arms about his neck and pressed a kiss upon his lips. They remained thus for a hushed moment the man on the threshold of death, the young woman in the full ness of youth and beauty linked to gether. Then the crowd laughed; in the audacious effrontery of the girl s act the ultimate fate of the two men was forgotten. She slipped languidly to the ground ; she was the focus of all eyes, she only! The ringleader saw it and his opportunity. He shouted: " Time s up Forward ! " urged his % ^" *x t&Y SALOMY JANE horse beside his captives, and the next moment the whole cavalcade was sweeping over the clearing into the darkening woods. Their destination was Sawyer s Crossing, the headquarters of the com mittee, where the council was still sit ting, and where both culprits were to expiate the offense of which that coun cil had already found them guilty. They rode in great and breathless haste, a haste in which, strangely enough, even the captives seemed to join. That haste possibly prevented them from noticing the singular change which had taken place in the second captive since the episode of the kiss. His high color remained, as if it had &&&. \yh Avrt SALOMY JANE burned through his mask of indiffer ence; his eyes were quick, alert, and keen, his mouth half open as if the girl s kiss still lingered there. And that haste had made them careless, for the horse of the man who led him slipped in a gopher-hole, rolled over, unseated his rider, and even dragged the bound and helpless second captive from Judge Boompointer s favorite mare. In an in stant they were all on their feet again, but in that supreme moment the second captive felt the cords which bound his arms had slipped to his wrists. By keeping his elbows to his sides, and obliging the others to help him mount, it escaped their notice. By riding close to his captors, and keeping % ft ^ d* it-.^X 5ij LTJE VN\\> SALOMY JANE in the crush of the throng, he further concealed the accident, slowly working his hands downwards out of his bonds. Their way lay through a sylvan wil derness, mid-leg deep in ferns, whose tall fronds brushed their horses sides in their furious gallop and concealed the flapping of the captive s loosened cords. The peaceful vista, more sug gestive of the offerings of nymph and shepherd than of human sacrifice, was in a strange contrast to this whirlwind rush of stern, armed men. The wester ing sun pierced the subdued light and the tremor of leaves with yellow lances ; birds started into song on blue and dove-like wings, and on either side of the trail of this vengeful storm could be W SALOMY JANE heard the murmur of hidden and tran quil waters. In a few moments they would be on the open ridge, whence sloped the common turnpike to " Saw yer s/ a mile away. It was the custom of returning cavalcades to take this hill at headlong speed, with shouts and cries that heralded their coming. They withheld the latter that day, as incon sistent with their dignity ; but, emerg ing from the wood, swept silently like an avalanche down the slope. They were well under way, looking only to their horses, when the second captive slipped his right arm from the bonds and succeeded in grasping the reins that lay trailing on the horse s neck. A sudden vaquero jerk, which the well- 3" ^\v SALOMY JANE trained animal understood, threw him on his haunches with his forelegs firmly planted on the slope. The rest of the cavalcade swept on; the man who was leading the captive s horse by the riata, thinking only of another acci dent, dropped the line to save himself from being dragged backwards from his horse. The captive wheeled, and the next moment was galloping furi ously up the slope. It was the work of a moment; a trained horse and an experienced hand. The cavalcade had covered nearly fifty yards before they could pull up; the freed captive had covered half that distance uphill. The road was so nar row that only two shots could be fired, 16 WA* SALOMY JANE and these broke dust two yards ahead of the fugitive. They had not dared to fire low ; the horse was the more val uable animal. The fugitive knew this in his extremity also, and would have gladly taken a shot in his own leg to spare that of his horse. Five men were detached to recapture or kill him. The latter seemed inevitable. But he had calculated his chances; before they could reload he had reached the woods again; winding in and out between the pillared tree trunks, he offered no mark. They knew his horse was superior to their own ; at the end of two hours they returned, for he had disappeared without track or trail. The end was briefly told in the " Sierra Record: " :% U A 4 feet?! w SALOMY JANE "Red Pete, the notorious horse- thief, who had so long eluded justice, was captured and hung by the Saw yer s Crossing Vigilantes last week; his confederate, unfortunately, es caped on a valuable horse belonging to Judge Boompointer. The judge had refused one thousand dollars for the horse only a week before. As the thief, who is still at large, would find it diffi cult to dispose of so valuable an animal without detection, the chances are against either of them turning up again." II SALOMY JANE watched the cavalcade until it had disappeared. Then she be came aware that her brief popularity had passed. Mrs. Red Pete, in stormy hysterics, had included her in a sweep ing denunciation of the whole uni verse, possibly for simulating an emo tion in which she herself was deficient. The other women hated her for her momentary exaltation above them; only the children still admired her as one who had undoubtedly "canoo dled" with a man " a-going to be hung" a daring flight beyond their wildest ambition. Salomy Jane ac- ,3fc Hr ^ ^ 4 ute: \^V SALOMY JANE cepted the change with charming un concern. She put on her yellow nan keen sunbonnet, a hideous affair that would have ruined any other wo man, but which only enhanced the piquancy of her fresh brunette skin, tied the strings, letting the blue-black braids escape below its frilled curtain behind, jumped on her mustang with a casual display of agile ankles in shapely white stockings, whistled to the hound, and waving her hand with a " So long, sonny! " to the lately bereft but admir ing nephew, flapped and fluttered away in her short brown holland gown. Her father s house was four miles distant. Contrasted with the cabin she v W^L SALOMY JANE had just quitted, it was a superior dwelling, with a long "lean-to" at the rear, which brought the eaves almost to the ground and made it look like a low triangle. It had a long barn and cattle sheds, for Madison Clay was a "great" stockraiser and the owner of a "quarter section." It had a sitting- room and a parlor organ, whose trans portation thither had been a marvel of "packing." These things were sup posed to give Salomy Jane an undue importance, but the girl s reserve and inaccessibility to local advances were rather the result of a cool, lazy tem perament and the preoccupation of a large, protecting admiration for her father, for some years a widower. For *% ix IJ .. V WA^ "* SALOMY JANE Mr. Madison Clay s life had been threatened in one or two feuds, it was said, not without cause, and it is possible that the pathetic spectacle of her father doing his visiting with a shotgun may have touched her closely and somewhat prejudiced her against the neighboring masculinity. The thought that cattle, horses, and "quar ter section" would one day be hers did not disturb her calm. As for Mr. Clay, he accepted her as housewifely, though somewhat " interfering," and, being one of "his own womankind," therefore not without some degree of merit. " Wot s this yer I m hearin of your doin s over at Red Pete s? Honey- Win SALOMY JANE foglin with a horse-thief, eh?" said Mr. Clay two days later at breakfast. " I reckon you heard about the straight thing, then," said Salomy Jane unconcernedly, without looking round. "What do you kalkilate Rube will say to it ? What are you goin to tell him ? " said Mr. Clay sarcastically. " Rube," or Reuben Waters, was a swain supposed to be favored particu larly by Mr. Clay. Salomy Jane looked up. "I ll tell him that when he s on his way to be hung, I 11 kiss him, not till then," said the young lady brightly. This delightful witticism suited the paternal humor, and Mr. Clay smiled ; 3" [* u#*fe\ "Stf/S! \^V SALOMY JANE but, nevertheless, he frowned a mo ment afterwards. "But this yer hoss-thief got away arter all, and that s a hoss of a different color," he said grimly. Salomy Jane put down her knife and fork. This was certainly a new and different phase of the situation. She had never thought of it before, and, strangely enough, for the first time she became interested in the man. "Got away?" she repeated. "Did they let him off?" " Not much," said her father briefly. "Slipped his cords, and going down the grade pulled up short, just like a vaquero agin a lassoed bull, almost draggin the man leadin him off his vfe SALOMY JANE boss, and then sky u ted up the grade. For that matter, on that hoss o Judge Boompointer s he mout have dragged the whole posse of em down on their knees ef he liked ! Sarved em right, too. Instead of stringin him up afore the door, or shootin him on sight, they must allow to take him down afore the hull committee * for an exam ple. Example be blowed! Ther"s example enough when some stranger comes unbeknownst slap onter a man hanged to a tree and plugged full of holes. That s an example, and he knows what it means. Wot more do ye want? But then those Vigilantes is allus clingin and hangin onter some mere scrap o the law they re pretendin %^ fcet, SALOMY JANE to despise. It makes me sick! Why, when Jake Myers shot your ole Aunt Viney s second husband, and I laid in wait for Jake afterwards in the Butter nut Hollow, did / tie him to his hoss and fetch him down to your Aunt Viney s cabin for an example before I plugged him ? No!" in deep disgust. "No ! Why, I just meandered through the wood, careless-like, till he comes out, and I just rode up to him, and I said " But Salomy Jane had heard her fa ther s story before. Even one s dearest relatives are apt to become tiresome in narration. "I know, dad," she inter rupted; "but this yer man, this hoss-thief, did he get clean away without gettin hurt at all ?" SALOMY JANE "He did, and unless he s fool enough to sell the hoss he kin keep away, too. So ye see, ye can t ladle out purp stuff about a dyin stranger to Rube. He won t swaller it." "All the same, dad," returned the girl cheerfully, "I reckon to say it, and say more; I 11 tell him that ef he man ages to get away too, I 11 marry him there ! But ye don t ketch Rube takin any such risks in gettin ketched, or in gettin away arter!" Madison Clay smiled grimly, pushed back his chair, rose, dropped a per functory kiss on his daughter s hair, and, taking his shot-gun from the corner, departed on a peaceful Samari tan mission to a cow who had dropped //, /. \\\\^ I fib % v^ f* *^.*1 ^ > ^> V\W SALOMY JANE a calf in the far pasture. Inclined as he was to Reuben s wooing from his eli gibility as to property, he was conscious that he was sadly deficient in certain qualities inherent in the Clay family. It certainly would be a kind of mesal liance. Left to herself, Salomy Jane stared a long while at the coffee-pot, and then called the two squaws who assisted her in her household duties, to clear away the things while she went up to her own room to make her bed. Here she was confronted with a possible prospect of that proverbial bed she might be making in her willfulness, and on which she must lie, in the photograph of a somewhat serious young man SALOMY JANE of refined features Reuben Waters stuck in her window-frame. Salomy Jane smiled over her last witticism re garding him and enjoyed it, like your true humorist, and then, catching sight of her own handsome face in the little mirror, smiled again. But was n t it funny about that horse-thief getting off after all ? Good Lordy ! Fancy Reuben hearing he was alive and going round with that kiss of hers set on his lips ! She laughed again, a little more abstractedly. And he had returned it like a man, holding her tight and almost breathless, and he going to be hung the next minute! Salomy Jane had been kissed at other times, by force, chance, or stratagem. In a certain ingenuous ! -> ] \ !i .*M* . * ?- ^V >"* ^*Kf xT fft ^ SALOMY JANE y forfeit game of the locality known as "I m a-pinin ," many had "pined" for a "sweet kiss" from Salomy Jane, which she had yielded in a sense of honor and fair play. She had never been kissed like this before she would never again; and yet the man was alive! And behold, she could see in the mirror that she was blushing! She should hardly know him again. A young man with very bright eyes, a flushed and sunburnt cheek, a kind of fixed look in the face, and no beard ; no, none that she could feel. Yet he was not at all like Reuben, not a bit. She took Reuben s picture from the win dow, and laid it on her work-box. And to think she did not even know this jfff-*. SALOMY JANE young man s name! That was queer. To be kissed by a man whom she might never know! Of course he knew hers. She wondered if he re membered it and her. But of course he was so glad to get off with his life that he never thought of anything else. Yet she did not give more than four or five minutes to these speculations, and, like a sensible girl, thought of some thing else. Once again, however, in opening the closet, she found the brown holland gown she had worn on the day before; thought it very unbe coming, and regretted that she had not worn her best gown on her visit to Red Pete s cottage. On such an occasion she really might have been more impressive. ,,%, Repea V, tf/fFii^.. C Jl A\\~~te Ill WHEN her father came home that night she asked him the news. No, they had not captured the second horse-thief, who was still at large. Judge Boompointer talked of invoking the aid of the despised law. It re mained, then, to see whether the horse- thief was fool enough to try to get rid of the animal. Red Pete s body had been delivered to his widow. Perhaps it would only be neighborly forSalomy Jane to ride over to the funeral. But Salomy Jane did not take to the sug gestion kindly, nor yet did she explain to her father that, as the other man >4t *%&, F / l .\ "^ <f " ^s. VHI^ SALOMY JANE was still living, she did not care to un dergo a second disciplining at the widow s hands. Nevertheless, she con trasted her situation with that of the widow with a new and singular satis faction. It might have been Red Pete who had escaped. But he had not the grit of the nameless one. She had al ready settled his heroic quality. "Ye ain t harkenin to me, Salomy." Salomy Jane started. "Here I m askin ye if ye ve see that hound Phil Larrabee sneaking by yer to-day?" Salomy Jane had not. But she be came interested and self-reproachful, for she knew that Phil Larrabee was one of her father s enemies. "He SALOMY JANE would n t dare to go by here unless he knew you were out," she said quickly. "That s what gets me," he said, scratching his grizzled head. "I Ve been kind o thinkin o him all day, and one of them Chinamen said he saw him at Sawyer s Crossing. He was a kind of friend o Pete s wife. That s why I thought yer might find out ef he d been there." Salomy Jane grew more self-reproachful at her father s self-interest in her "neighborliness." "But that ain t all," continued Mr. Clay. "Thar was tracks over the far pasture that warn t mine. I followed them, and they went round and round the house two or three times, ez ef they mout hev bin prowlin , and then I lost m &.m 35 -^t^S aT^/ KzL "^ l^i\ \^V SALOMY JANE em in the woods again. It s just like that sneakin hound Larrabee to hev bin lyin in wait for me and afraid to meet a man fair and square in the open." "You just lie low, dad, for a day or two more, and let me do a little prowlin ," said the girl, with sympa thetic indignation in her dark eyes. " Ef it s that skunk, I 11 spot him soon enough and let you know whar he s hiding." "You ll just stay where ye are, Salomy," said her father decisively. "This ain t no woman s work though I ain t sayin you have n t got more head for it than some men I know." LX// v\\\~Z. SALOMY JANE Nevertheless, that night, after her father had gone to bed, Salomy Jane sat by the open window of the sitting- room in an apparent attitude of languid contemplation, but alert and intent of eye and ear. It was a fine moonlit night. Two pines near the door, soli tary pickets of the serried ranks of dis tant forest, cast long shadows like paths to the cottage, and sighed their spiced breath in the windows. For there was no frivolity of vine or flower round Salomy Jane s bower. The clearing was too recent, the life too practical for vanities like these. But the moon added a vague elusiveness to everything, softened the rigid outlines of the sheds, gave shadows to the lidless ft \\\\fl ^ ( " : <%. sM jtf/8 ^ SALOMY JANE windows, and touched with merciful indirectness the hideous debris of re fuse gravel and the gaunt scars of burnt vegetation before the door. Even Salomy Jane was affected by it, and exhaled something between a sigh and a yawn with the breath of the pines. Then she suddenly sat upright. Her quick ear had caught a faint "click, click," in the direction of the wood; her quicker instinct and rustic training enabled her to determine that it was the ring of a horse s shoe on flinty ground ; her knowledge of the lo cality told her it came from the spot where the trail passed over an outcrop of flint scarcely a quarter of a mile from where she sat, and within the a i* ,H I wKg J/K A\TT- SALOMY JANE clearing. It was no errant "stock," for the foot was shod with iron; it was a mounted trespasser by night, and boded no good to a man like Clay. She rose, threw her shawl over her head, more for disguise than shelter, and passed out of the door. A sudden impulse made her seize her father s shotgun from the corner where it stood, not that she feared any dan ger to herself, but that it was an ex cuse. She made directly for the wood, keeping in the shadow of the pines as long as she could. At the fringe she halted; whoever was there must pass her before reaching the house. Then there seemed to be a suspense of all nature. Everything was deadly fcfc i ^ is r\ 4 tofe: SALOMY JANE still even the moonbeams appeared no longer tremulous ; soon there was a rustle as of some stealthy animal among the ferns, and then a dis mounted man stepped into the moon light. It was the horse-thief the man she had kissed! For a wild moment a strange fancy seized her usually sane intellect and stirred her temperate blood. The news they had told her was not true ; he had been hung, and this was his ghost! He looked as white and spirit- like in the moonlight, dressed in the same clothes, as when she saw him last. He had evidently seen her ap proaching, and moved quickly to meet her. But in his haste he stumbled 44 WtH SALOMY JANE slightly; she reflected suddenly that ghosts did not stumble, and a feeling of relief came over her. And it was no assassin of her father that had been prowling around only this unhappy fugitive. A momentary color came into her cheek ; her coolness and hardi hood returned ; it was with a tinge of sauciness in her voice that she said : "I reckoned you were a ghost." " I mout have been," he said, looking at her fixedly; "but I reckon I d have come back here all the same." "It s a little riskier comin back alive," she said, with a levity that died on her lips, for a singular ner vousness, half fear and half expecta tion, was beginning to take the place *M ffi I> V<S" >] _. %. ^ ^.IK^ >%, >~y v "I ^ \\ l> -^ X ow fa xT Ut IvHj SALOMY JANE of her relief of a moment ago. "Then it was you who was prowlin round and makin tracks in the far pasture?" "Yes; I came straight here when I got away." She felt his eyes were burning her, but did not dare to raise her own. "Why," she began, hesitated, and ended vaguely. "How did you get here?" "You helped me!" "I?" "Yes. That kiss you gave me put life into me gave me strength to get away. I swore to myself I d come back and thank you, alive or dead." Every word he said she could have anticipated, so plain the situation w& SALOMY JANE seemed to her now. And every word he said she knew was the truth. Yet her cool common sense struggled against it. "What s the use of your escaping, ef you re comin back here to be ketched again?" she said pertly. He drew a little nearer to her, but seemed to her the more awkward as she resumed her self-possession. His voice, too, was broken, as if by ex haustion, as he said, catching his breath at intervals : "I ll tell you. You did more for me than you think. You made another man o me. I never had a man, wo man, or child do to me what you did. I never had a friend only a pal like /] ,r*t\ v &f4 a ^j.^ 4 ^>?^: UN\V > -=^re*A? -T7/// V< SALOMY JANE Red Pete, who picked me up on shares. I want to quit this yer what I m doin . I want to begin by doin the square thing to you" He stopped, breathed hard, and then said brokenly, "My hoss is over thar, staked out. I want to give him to you. Judge Boompointer will give you a thousand dollars for him. I ain t lyin ; it s God s truth ! I saw it on the hand bill agin a tree. Take him, and I ll get away afoot. Take him. It s the only thing I can do for you, and I know it don t half pay for what you did. Take it; your father can get a re ward for you, if you can t." Such were the ethics of this strange locality that neither the man who A *t/ ~s l{ \\\\~~Z. bk. SALOMY JANE made the offer nor the girl to whom it was made was struck by anything that seemed illogical or indelicate, or at all inconsistent with justice or the horse- thief s real conversion. Salomy Jane nevertheless dissented, from another and weaker reason. "I don t want your hoss, though I reckon dad might; but you re just starvin . I ll get suthin ." She turned towards the house. "Say you ll take the hoss first," he said, grasping her hand. At the touch she felt herself coloring and struggled, expecting perhaps another kiss. But he dropped her hand. She turned again with a saucy gesture, said, "Hoi* on ; I 11 come right back," and slipped ^> *&! IK tfW 49 SALOMY JANE away, the mere shadow of a coy and flying nymph in the moonlight, until she reached the house. Here she not only procured food and whiskey, but added a long dust-coat and hat of her father s to her burden. They would serve as a disguise for him and hide that heroic figure, which she thought everybody must now know as she did. Then she rejoined him breathlessly. But he put the food and whiskey aside. "Listen," he said; "I Ve turned the hoss into your corral. You 11 find him there in the morning, and no one will know but that he got lost and joined the other bosses." Then she burst out. "But you r ^ SALOMY JANE you what will become of you ? You llbeketched!" "I 11 manage to get away," he said in a low voice, "ef ef " "Ef what?" she said tremblingly. "Ef you ll put the heart in me again, as you did!" he gasped. She tried to laugh to move away. She could do neither. Suddenly he caught her in his arms, with a long kiss, which she returned again and again. Then they stood embraced as they had embraced two days before, but no longer the same. For the cool, lazy Salomy Jane had been trans formed into another woman a pas sionate, clinging savage. Perhaps something of her father s blood had "% <iju l&MS ^v SALOMY JANE surged within her at that supreme mo ment. The man stood erect and deter mined. "Wot s your name?" she whis pered quickly. It was a woman s quickest way of defining her feelings. "Dart." "Yer first name?" "Jack." "Let me go now, Jack. Lie low in the woods till to-morrow sunup. I 11 come again." He released her. Yet she lingered a moment. "Put on those things," she said, with a sudden happy flash of eyes and teeth, "and lie close till I come." And then she sped away home. But midway up the distance she felt S^r* </^ ZJl ^<~s= SALOMY JANE her feet going slower, and something at her heartstrings seemed to be pulling her back. She stopped, turned, and glanced to where he had been standing. Had she seen him then, she might have returned. But he had disappeared. She gave her first sigh, and then ran quickly again. It must be nearly ten o clock! It was not very long to morning ! She was within a few steps of her own door, when the sleeping woods and silent air appeared to suddenly awake with a sharp "crack!" She stopped, paralyzed. Another "crack!" followed, that echoed over to the far corral. She recalled herself instantly and dashed off wildly to the woods again. %, /4H,. ^Jh ,^ SALOMY JANE As she ran she thought of one thing only. He had been "dogged" by one of his old pursuers and attacked. But there were two shots, and he was un armed. Suddenly she remembered that she had left her father s gun standing against the tree where they were talk ing. Thank God ! she may again have saved him. She ran to the tree ; the gun was gone. She ran hither and thither, dreading at every step to fall upon his lifeless body. A new thought struck her; she ran to the corral. The horse was not there! He must have been able to regain it, and escaped, after the shots had been fired. She drew a long breath of relief, but it was caught up in an apprehension of alarm. Her fa- 54 p v^ V SALOMY JANE ther, awakened from his sleep by the shots, was hurriedly approaching her. "What s up now, Salomy Jane?" he demanded excitedly. "Nothin ," said the girl with an ef fort. "Nothin , at least, that / can find." She was usually truthful be cause fearless, and a lie stuck in her throat; but she was no longer fearless, thinking of him. "I wasn t abed; so I ran out as soon as I heard the shots fired," she answered in return to his curious gaze. "And you ve hid my gun some where where it can t be found," he said reproachfully. "Ef it was that sneak Larrabee, and he fired them shots to lure me out, he might have SALOMY JANE potted me, without a show, a dozen times in the last five minutes." She had not thought since of her fa ther s enemy! It might indeed have been he who had attacked Jack. But she made a quick point of the sugges tion. "Run in, dad, run in and find the gun; you ve got no show out here without it." She seized him by the shoulders from behind, shielding him from the woods, and hurried him, half expostulating, half struggling, to the house. But there no gun was to be found. It was strange ; it must have been mis laid in some corner! Was he sure he had not left it in the barn? But no matter now. The danger was over; SALOMY JANE the Larrabee trick had failed ; he must go to bed now, and in the morning they would make a search together. At the same time she had inwardly resolved to rise before him and make another search of the wood, and perhaps fearful joy as she recalled her promise! find Jack alive and well, awaiting her! Another Escape IV SALOMY JANE slept little that night, nor did her father. But towards morn ing he fell into a tired man s slumber until the sun was well up the horizon. Far different was it with his daughter : she lay with her face to the window, her head half lifted to catch every sound, from the creaking of the sun-warped shingles above her head to the far-off moan of the rising wind in the pine trees. Sometimes she fell into a breath less, half-ecstatic trance, living over every moment of the stolen interview; feeling the fugitive s arm still around her, his kisses on her lips; hearing his fe fj& II &M2 ^v SALOMY JANE whispered voice in her ears the birth of her new life! This was followed again by a period of agonizing dread that he might even then be lying, his life ebbing away, in the woods, with her name on his lips, and she resting here inactive, until she half started from her bed to go to his succor. And this went on until a pale opal glow came into the sky, followed by a still paler pink on the summit of the white Sierras, when she rose and hurriedly began to dress. Still so sanguine was her hope of meeting him, that she lin gered yet a moment to select the brown holland skirt and yellow sunbonnet she had worn when she first saw him. And she had only seen him twice! Only -4 ?>ffl^ yji A\\~te I "It fl H SALOMY JANE twice! It would be cruel, too cruel, not to see him again! She crept softly down the stairs, lis tening to the long-drawn breathing of her father in his bedroom, and then, by the light of a guttering candle, scrawled a note to him, begging him not to trust himself out of the house until she re turned from her search, and leaving the note open on the table, swiftly ran out into the growing day. Three hours afterwards Mr. Madi son Clay awoke to the sound of loud knocking. At first this forced itself upon his consciousness as his daugh ter s regular morning summons, and was responded to by a grunt of recog nition and a nestling closer in the blan- ,xx>^v< W, 4*H VN\\V SALOMY JANE kets. Then he awoke with a start and a muttered oath, remembering the events of last night, and his intention to get up early, and rolled out of bed. Becoming aware by this time that the knocking was at the outer door, and hearing the shout of a familiar voice, he hastily pulled on his boots, his jean trousers, and fastening a single suspen der over his shoulder as he clattered downstairs, stood in the lower room. The door was open, and waiting upon the threshold was his kinsman, an old ally in many a blood-feud Brecken- ridge Clay! "You are a cool one, Mad!" said the latter in half-admiring indigna tion. fft\< M SALOMY JANE "What s up?" said the bewildered Madison. "Ton ought to be, and scootin out o this," said Breckenridge grimly. "It s all very well to know nothin ; but here Phil Larrabee s friends hev just picked him up, drilled through with slugs and deader nor a crow, and now they re lettin loose Larrabee s two half-brothers on you. And you must go like a derned fool and leave these yer things behind you in the bresh," he went on querulously, lifting Madison Clay s dust-coat, hat, and shotgun from his horse, which stood saddled at the door. " Luckily I picked them up in the woods comin here. Ye ain t got more than time to get over the \x\\N /ro fi>ife\ 3fa<8 w SALOMY JANE state line and among your folks thar afore they ll be down on you. Hustle, old man ! What are you gawkin and starin at?" Madison Clay had stared amazed and bewildered horror-stricken. The incidents of the past night for the first time flashed upon him clearly hope lessly! The shot; his finding Salomy Jane alone in the woods ; her confusion and anxiety to rid herself of him ; the disappearance of the shotgun ; and now this new discovery of the taking of his hat and coat for a disguise! She had killed Phil Larrabee in that disguise, after provoking his first harmless shot ! She, his own child, Salomy Jane, had disgraced herself by a man s crime ; had SALOMY JANE disgraced him by usurping his right, and taking a mean advantage, by de ceit, of a foe ! "Gimme that gun," he said hoarsely. Breckenridge handed him the gun in wonder and slowly gathering suspi cion. Madison examined nipple and muzzle; one barrel had been dis charged. It was true! The gun dropped from his hand. "Look here, old man," said Breck enridge, with a darkening face, " there s bin no foul play here. Thar s bin no hiring of men, no deputy to do this job. ^owdid it fair and square yourself?" "Yes, by God!" burst out Madison Clay in a hoarse voice. "Who says I didn t?" SALOMY JANE Reassured, yet believing that Madi son Clay had nerved himself for the act by an over-draught of whiskey, which had affected his memory, Breckenridge said curtly, "Then wake up and lite out, ef ye want me to stand by you." "Go to the corral and pick me out a hoss," said Madison slowly, yet not without a certain dignity of manner. "I ve suthin to say to Salomy Jane afore I go." He was holding her scrib bled note, which he had just discovered, in his shaking hand. Struck by his kinsman s manner, and knowing the dependent relations of father and daughter, Breckenridge nod ded and hurried away. Left to him self, Madison Clay ran his fingers **/ ?#?&*==: sj AV te if*. t-?i SALOMY JANE through his hair, and straightened out the paper on which Salomy Jane had scrawled her note, turned it over, and wrote on the back : You might have told me you did it, and not leave your ole father to find it out how you disgraced yourself and him, too, by a low-down, under handed, woman s trick ! I ve said I done it, and took the blame myself, and all the sneakiness of it that folks sus pect. If I get away alive and I don t care much which you need n t foller. The house and stock are yours ; but you ain t any longer the daughter of your disgraced father, MADISON CLAY. \m ( /t iA r *" SALOMY JANE He had scarcely finished the note when, with a clatter of hoofs and a led horse, Breckenridge reappeared at the door elate and triumphant. "You re in nigger luck, Mad ! I found that stole hoss of Judge Boompointer s had got away and strayed among your stock in the corral. Take him and you re safe ; he can t be outrun this side of the state line." "I ain t no hoss-thief," said Madi son grimly. "Nobody sez ye are, but you d be wuss a fool ef you did n t take him. I m testimony that you found him among your hosses ; I 11 tell Judge Boompointer you ve got him, and ye kin send him back when you re safe. SALOMY JANE The judge will be mighty glad to get him back, and call it quits. So ef you ve writ to Salomy Jane, come." Madison Clay no longer hesitated. Salomy Jane might return at any mo ment, it would be part of her "fool womanishness," and he was in no mood to see her before a third party. He laid the note on the table, gave a hurried glance around the house, which he grimly believed he was leav ing forever, and, striding to the door, leaped on the stolen horse, and swept away with his kinsman. But that note lay for a week undis turbed on the table in full view of the open door. The house was invaded by leaves, pine cones, birds, and squirrels ^ Nl :*y fifctf SALOMY JANE during the hot, silent, empty days, and at night by shy, stealthy creatures, but never again, day or night, by any of the Clay family. It was known in the district that Clay had flown across the state line, his daughter was believed to have joined him the next day, and the house was supposed to be locked up. It lay off the main road, and few passed that way. The starving cattle in the corral at last broke bounds and spread over the woods. And one night a stronger blast than usual swept through the house, carried the note from the table to the floor, where, whirled into a crack in the flooring, it slowly rotted. But though the sting of her father s SALOMY JANE reproach was spared her, Salomy Jane had no need of the letter to know what had happened. For as she entered the woods in the dim light of that morning she saw the figure of Dart gliding from the shadow of a pine towards her. The unaffected cry of joy that rose from her lips died there as she caught sight of his face in the open light. "You are hurt," she said, clutching his arm passionately. "No," he said. "But I wouldn t mind that if " "You re thinkin I was afeard to come back last night when I heard the shootin , but I did come," she went on feverishly. "I ran back here when I heard the two shots, but you were SALOMY JANE gone. I went to the corral, but your hoss was n t there, and I thought you d got away." "I did get away," said Dart gloom ily. "I killed the man, thinkin he was huntin me, and forgettin I was dis guised. He thought I was your father." "Yes," said the girl joyfully, "he was after dad, and you you killed him." She again caught his hand ad miringly. But he did not respond. Possibly there were points of honor which this horse-thief felt vaguely with her father. "Listen," he said grimly. "Others think it was your father killed him. When 7 did it for he fired at me first I ran to the corral again and SALOMY JANE took my boss, thinkin I might be fol- lered. I made a clear circuit of the house, and when I found he was the only one, and no one was follerin , I come back here and took off my dis guise. Then I heard his friends find him in the wood, and I know they sus pected your father. And then another man come through the woods while I was hidin and found the clothes and took them away." He stopped and stared at her gloomily. But all this was unintelligible to the girl. "Dad would have got the better of him ef you hadn t," she said eagerly, "so what s the difference?" "All the same," he said gloomily, "I must take his place." s-s* >: KME t- 4 fccfe: ^?re*A? al// VL SALOMY JANE She did not understand, but turned her head to her master. "Then you ll go back with me and tell him all ?" she said obediently. "Yes," he said. She put her hand in his, and they crept out of the wood together. She foresaw a thousand difficulties, but, chiefest of all, that he did not love as she did. She would not have taken these risks against their happiness. But alas for ethics and heroism. As they were issuing from the wood they heard the sound of galloping hoofs, and had barely time to hide themselves be fore Madison Clay, on the stolen horse of Judge Boompointer, swept past them with his kinsman. Wfo SALOMY JANE Salomy Jane turned to her lover. And here I might, as a moral ro mancer, pause, leaving the guilty, pas sionate girl eloped with her disreputable lover, destined to lifelong shame and misery, misunderstood to the last by a criminal, fastidious parent. But I am confronted by certain facts, on which this romance is based. A month later a handbill was posted on one of the sentinel pines, announcing that the property would be sold by auction to the highest bidder by Mrs. John Dart, daughter of Madison Clay, Esq., and it was sold accordingly. Still later by ten years the chronicler of these pages visited a certain "stock" or sw 77 SALOMY JANE "breeding farm," in the "Blue Grass Country," famous for the popular racers it has produced. He was told that the owner was the " best judge of horse-flesh in the country." " Small wonder," added his informant, "for they say as a young man out in Cali fornia he was a horse-thief, and only saved himself by eloping with some rich farmer s daughter. But he s a straight-out and respectable man now, whose word about horses can t be bought; and as for his wife, she s a beauty! To see her at the Springs, rigged out in the latest fashion, you d never think she had ever lived out of New York or was n t the wife of one of its millionaires." fcitoeitfibe CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A YC I 05368 260320